[Edit: 3 Oct 2021]

[Okay, so I'm not from the USA, nor have I ever been there, but Google says it'd take about 40+ hours to drive from Washington (Forks) through to Georgia (Covington, aka Mystic Falls). I'll take Google at its word, but I also didn't think it's necessary nor would it be appreciated for me to write about 40 hours of Leah driving. So. Cue driving montage.]

Brilliant shades of green wiz dizzyingly past me on either side. Just a long, long stretch of blur that makes me feel like I'm on a rollercoaster.

I feel like I'm still in Forks, for all I know I probably still am. Every time I glance into the rear mirror I'm not entirely sure where I'm going – home or Mystic Falls. The trees are blandly familiar, tall and green, their very tip-tops caressing the cloud cover.

It's entirely possible that at some point I may have turned back. Just…yanked the steering wheel and decided to stay.

I can survive on another reservation, without Sam close by it should be easy, enjoyable even – in the vaguest sense of the term, let's not be too hasty. Just me and Seth. That is unless the pup gets it into his head he wants to live with Charlie and mom. Which seems unlikely on quite a few fronts. But then again, I doubt Sam would allow that, to have the young wolf so close to humans everyday – it's a disaster waiting to happen. We aren't necessarily known for our stellar control – Emily' face is testament to that.

We – they - cannot afford to be exposed. It's a matter of security. And I'd really rather not have to hear of Seth being chased down with pitchforks.

(Stop! I scream, but in their place a growl vibrates the air. Most forest creatures are smart enough to heed the warning, the group of teenagers across from me are not intelligent forest animals though. They laugh.

Seth is crouching on the ground, trying and failing to staunch the blood from his broken nose. He is too dazed to do much more than cup his face. Fur ripples over my spine, the slow onset of the change no longer as painful as it had once been.

Something angry and snarling calls for more blood. Protect. Assert hierarchy. My body bows forward. The rustle and tear of cloth familiar.

"Leah!"

Seth's warbled cry is my only warning before I'm being mowed into the ground, the air knocked clear out of my chest.

Jacob stands above me, eyes narrowly trained on two retreating boys. Slowly, as if emerging from a trance, he turns his eyes to me, that stupid half-smile on his face. "You all right, Leah?"

I push myself up and shove him out the way to crouch by Seth. Who, surprise-surpise has the same stupid smile on his face as Jacob does.

"That was way cool, Jake!"

Deciding Seth is well enough, I hit him upside the head.)

Damn it, who's going to look after the kid?

My hands clench and I glare at the rear-view mirror. Almost expecting the pack to burst through the trees.

They don't.

I continue driving.

My foot has been pressed to the gas for hours to the point of cramping. I'm not in Forks anymore, that's certain. There's no possible way. Yet I can almost remember myself turning around, turning away from my destination. Around me there are houses and fields, factories and gymnasia. It's not Forks, nothing like Forks, but I'm almost convinced I'm heading back.

The pickup truck clacks and clatters around me, threatening death, or, at the very least, some intestinal failure. It's the only thing I have from home though, so I whisper "just a few miles" every couple of miles.

As a kid I'd spent tons of time here. Hanging out the windows, struggling to climb in the back, puffing air at the windshield and drawing monsters for Seth. Before the vehicle became Bella's it had been ours – Billy's actually, but ours by default. Dad and Billy would drive down to La Push with the engine coughing black plumes. Jacob, Seth and I wobbling around in the back. ("Be careful, don't hang off the side!")

Charlie would meet us there, still dressed in his uniform – considerably more mussed and disorderly than it probably had been when he went to work in the morning – a rod leaning against his shoulder. Back then these men were my heroes, Seth and Jacob were merely obstacles of annoyance.

It's bittersweet now. Dad's dead, he'll never ruffle my hair again. Billy could run after us and throw us over his shoulder; Jacob used to lead a chubby Seth into the water screeching in the way only toddlers could; we'd get home and mom would be waiting with a pot of jerk chicken and flatbread.

It was a time when there weren't vampires or wolves. A time when we weren't looking over our shoulders in anticipation of the next fight or threat.

(Seth giggles wildly as Jacob sprints with him into the water. They fall over, come up gasping as waves crash over their heads, fighting for air and shoving too long hair from their eyes.

From the beach, I watch carefully, rolling a pebble around between my palms.

Seth continues to giggle and stumbles from the water, tripping over beached seaweed and catching himself face-first in the sand. His startled cry has me jumping from my seat among the shells and dashing across the sand. His chubby body is heavy – seems to be gaining pounds by the day – but I heave him up to my hip, singing words of comfort as salty tears make streaks over his sand covered face.

Jacob comes rushing from the water at full speed, his nine year old body shaking from the cold and excitement. I glare at him, "Seth's a baby, you can't be so rough in the water,"

The teary-eyed Seth sniffs and wipes at his dirty face, bottom lip protruding indignantly. "I'm not a baby!"

I send Jacob a scathing glare when he laughs, "Was it you who told him that?"

He chuckles and scratches the back of his head, grinning as he backs away. "No," He spins on his heel, kicking up a shower of sand and shells, and dashes back into the ocean.

Sighing, I place Seth's wriggling body back on the ground, he tears across the beach after his friend – pain or shock forgotten. I glance up to the rocks where Billy, Charlie and dad are sitting, fishing rods in hand, although there's little actual fishing happening.

Glorified babysitter.

I should be making friends my own age! Although there are few on the reservation and those that I do know are idiots. Yuma especially, he thinks he's so cool, but actually he's stupid. Who cares if his great grandfather killed a bear?

I kick some pebbles and eyes trailing across the beach to where a group of boys gather. They're tall, taller than even me and mom calls me a beansprout. After a moment I think I recognise one – Sani? Samoset? The kid who tackled Jacy out the way of a car.

I take a step toward the group.

"Leah!" dad yells. Hesitating only a moment, I turn and trot back.

In the cover of darkness as dad is tucking Seth and myself in, I ask.

"Sam," He says, lips twitching in amusement.)

I scoff at my musings. Pathetic. There's no point in reminiscing. Nothing is going to change. I will still be a wolf tomorrow morning and I'll still be alone. Dad is still going to be dead. Sam will still love Emily.

I lost my chance of happiness long ago, maybe when I first turned into a wolf or perhaps even before that. The day I first laid my eyes on Sam perhaps. I can't give an exact moment when things took a turn for the worse, all I know is that it had and there was no going back.

("Leah!" Emily calls and I grin. She throws herself at me, small and light as a feather, I easily wrap my arms around her in a hug.

She has been in the Quileute reservation for three hours now, but still her enthusiasm is tangible. I haven't had anyone be so happy to see me in years. I grin a little brighter.

Tonight, tonight I'll introduce her to Sam. Two of the most important people in my life. My stomach is in knots, I hope they like each other. Seth said they will, but he also thinks it's acceptable to eat peanut butter and potatoes together, so he's judgement is faulty.

"Leah," She breathes, breaking away from me, face impossibly happy. "Why didn't you tell me?" Her eyes are practically popping from her head..

I blink. "What?" Did she find out about the wolves? Did she see how much muscle Seth's recently sprouted? Or is this about the welcome dinner Billy's been fussing over?

"The guys on this reservation are gorgeous!" She tacks on some unintelligible sound, clutching at my face.

I laugh, relieved. "Who is he?"

"You know me too well," Her cheeks pink, "Sam. His name is Sam.")

Kansas is mostly sprawling fields - I don't know what I expected, I guess I never thought about being so far from the reservation before. It's fields and fields, until suddenly it's not. Kansas city jumps up like Washington, a sea of glass and endless concrete.

I check in the rearview mirror and my eyes stare back at me, unassuming. Beneath my skin I still feel unnatural but it hardly shows on my face. I'm just another girl, just another road tripper going cross-country.

My hands hold tight to the steering wheel and my throat stays tight until I leave the city proper. Only then does my pulse begin to soothe.

I pull over in Odessa, just to breathe. I squeeze my eyes shut and focus until the buzz of the city has faded from my ears, the exhaust fumes cleared from the vents. I check the mirror again and my eyes are still brown, my nose straight, teeth markedly human. I touch my collar, just to be sure, and there's no fur. No tail stub pressing against the seat.

It does not hit me how hungry I was until I'm completely calm again. I drive around the town until I find a grocery store, but the whole town seems to be in the parking lot and I chicken out. Eventually, I work up the courage to find a drive-through. The food is oily and smells old, but it's warm and stays down after I shove it down my throat. I stay hidden in the truck, under the shade of a young pine tree, as I let my stomach settle.

(Emily's buffalo stew is probably the best I've ever tasted, better even than Ms Hudson's and she was the hotel chef. It's a shame then that I can't actually eat it.

The moon is full and for once the sky is clear, couple this with the raging fire that Quil keeps feeding, the campground is very well lit. Which makes it so much easier to watch Sam's hands wandering incessantly across Emily's neck and shoulders. I feel the ghost of those movements across my own body from a week ago.

Billy, the wizened old fool, has planted himself next to me. His eyes are knowing and full of sympathy. He doesn't speak, doesn't try to draw me from the dazed horror crushing my chest. Unlike Seth's confused questions and a few pitying looks from the pack, Billy's presence is at least tolerable.

The stew has gone cold in my hands, barely touched. The broth vibrates and the bowl creaks every time Emily laughs.

"How does it feel to be back in La Push?" Paul asks Emily, he's on his third (or forth) bowl of stew and has stars in his eyes when he looks at her.

"Well," she says, blinking up at Sam, her tone honey sweet and her mouth curved, "a real treat so far."

Sam's face is split with a grin, "Enough to make you stay?"

"Maybe,"

There's some laughter from the pack and a few furtive glances at me. I lower my head, hardly seeing the ground below me. I'm vaguely aware of the weight and warmth of Billy's hand on my back, but my face is on fire and my eyes are pools of lava overflowing and dripping, dripping down to the ground. I'm not entirely sure I'm breathing.)

It's almost evening again. My foot cramps from being pressed to the gas, my ass is numb.

It's too late to go back now.

If only I could go back, not to those days of happiness but to a few hours ago – a day, maybe a week. I didn't say good-bye in person. I knew that if my eyes landed on Seth I wouldn't go. Couldn't. I almost didn't, merely at the thought of him.

Somehow I managed to scribble a note, a note not fit for how I really felt. Then again I have never been very good at expressing myself – not in the ways that mattered. Seth is the only thing I have left, mom is with Charlie, but Seth. Seth is my responsibility, my last link to sanity. I should have written him a whole page.

I shouldn't have left him at all.

But he's old enough. Has been for a while. He never fails to remind me of this.

He'll be okay without me. Just like everyone else.

("Spirits, Leah, I'm not a kid!"

"You always say this," I remind him, "but you still act like a child."

"Just because I actually want to have a good time doesn't mean I'm a child." Seth says, his hands are curled into fists so tight that his knuckles are white. "Unlike you, I actually want to enjoy my life."

"It's not like I chose this. It's not like I want to be this way."

"Then get over it already! Your self pity is exhausting and pathetic."

I stare at him for a long moment, lost for words and my throat tightens. His face has started to lose its tension by the time I find my words. "I didn't know you felt like that."

Seth flinches and takes a step toward me before stopping, he suddenly looks much younger. "I didn't- You know I didn't mean-"

"It's okay." I say, turning to rearrange the unwashed dishes. "Don't worry about it. You go without me."

"Leah,"

"I said it's okay, Seth.")

The forest I've been driving through abruptly begins to thin, the trees shrinking back from the road. The truck slows, shuddering in relief, and I lean forward, eyes scanned the road ahead. It's not Forks, the trees are different. The snow is a light dust instead of a heavy coat.

It hits me then. I didn't turn back. I'm not going home. I'm really truly alone.

Blurred as my vision is, I almost miss the sign. Simple, looping script, in white and black it reads 'Welcome to Mystic Falls'.